The Fountain of Youth
by whatsamatta
Summary: It is often said that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.


_**Disclaimer: I still don't own Hey Arnold, but I can think of a few things I would do if I did. So, this one-shot is admittedly weird, probably even for me. It was inspired by the songs **_A Little Piece of Heaven_** by Avenged Sevenfold and **_Hallelujah _**by Rufus Wainwright, and that movie **_Death Becomes Her_** (which is so fantastic by the way). It really doesn't matter to me if you like this or not, I just needed to get it out, but I do hope that you remember to Read, Review, and Spread the word.**_

HA

Arnold and Helga Moser had been married for three years, each year going on what they coined the Annual Honeymoon, in which they would travel the world in search of legendary icons. Atlantis was their first honeymoon, earning them international recognition, a whole section in National Geographic devoted to them, and interviews with every major news stations this side of the Free World. The Holy Grail was their second conquest, and that granted them an audience with the President of the United States of America – North America – as well as the newest Pope in the Vatican. This year they planned on finding the one monument that man had dreamed of and envisioned since he understood his mortality. The one thing that could change the course of scientific history, more than Atlantis and the Holy Grail combined.

They were going to find the Fountain of Youth.

And that was how they ended up four hundred feet below ground in spelunking gear, in a cave in some third world country in South America, searching for any evidence they could find. On their actual third anniversary, no less. They each took a wall and began scanning, hoping that this lead wouldn't end like all the others. Dead. While they didn't have deadlines assigned by National Geographic, they did have personal standards, and it was painfully clear the two would be devastated if they didn't find the Fountain before next week.

"Arnold!" Helga's excited voice broke his thoughts, and Arnold turned to find his wife's flashlight shaking, the beam pointing towards a crude drawing on her wall. Without much delay, he moved to her side, and stared transfixed at what had caught her attention.

It was a tree, what kind was impossible to tell. But it was encircled by stick-figured people, with lines coming off of them and they appeared to be celebrating. Trees were often used by ancient peoples to signify life source and its givers, and if the lines coming off the stick people were any indication . . .

"Did we actually find it?" Helga breathed out in amazement, stepping closer to her husband with a smirk forming on her lips.

"Well, so far Helga all we've found is a -" he didn't get the chance to finish his statement before she shushed him, inclining her ear towards the back of the cave.

"Do you hear that?" she whispered, and even in the silence enveloping them he strained his ear. For a moment he could hear nothing, and was about to tell her that, when he suddenly stopped. There it was, so faint yet within reach.

The bubbling of a small spring.

With their adrenaline building, Arnold took Helga's hand in his and led her in the direction of the sound. Their flashlights not only illuminated their path, but also helped them seek out the little spring calling out to them. He briefly wondered, as he often did on these adventures, if this was how his parents felt every time they were on the verge of a life-changing discovery.

The loud and insisting trickling of water quickly had him replacing the nostalgia with urgency, and it took everything in him to not break into a run. Although it really wouldn't have mattered, since the two were now staring at a rock formation emerging from the wall, a medium sized spring at the base.

For a short while, neither said a thing, simply allowed the realization to wash over them. It was finally Helga who broke the moment, both still watching fixatedly the flow of water.

"How do we know if this is it?" she wondered, and Arnold shook his head even as the knowledge dawned on him.

"I guess we just have to drink some . . ." He answered while leaning down with one of the canteens, emptying it out on the rock at his feet before dunking it gently in the water. Once the line of air bubbles ceased, Arnold pulled up the container, and held it in front of him cautiously.

"Well, here it goes. This will either grant me immortality and youth, or it will kill me." He announced, and brought the spittle to his lips. And then he waited. He really wanted to rack up the nerve to take that first drink, but he just couldn't. After a few minutes of waiting, Helga finally sighed and snatched the canteen from his hands.

"Crimmney Football Head. If you can't do it, I will."

And she did.

Wrapping her mouth around the opening, she allowed the cool liquid to rush down her throat. After two loud gulps so large they actually made her eyes water, she handed Arnold the water, with a confused smirk.

"Well Helga? How do you feel?" he questioned, only to be met with a shrug in response.

"I dunno. I don't feel any different. You give it a shot." She suggested, and Arnold nodded while drinking almost all the water remaining. After he lowered the canteen, he shook it to hear how much was left, before offering her a shrug as well.

"Yeah, I don't feel anything. There's not much left here, I better refill the canteen, and then we can bring it back to the lab to have it analyzed properly. I kinda think the guys are getting pissed at all the field tests we do." He joked, and she laughed and agreed with him, even as she felt something churn within her.

It wasn't in her stomach, but more like in her spiritual being. It was a darkness, like she was being consumed by a shadow. Something shifted as she watched Arnold bend down to refill the water. Grabbing one of the large shovels the couple had thought they would need, she held it high above her head and aimed it at her husband's form.

"Arnold." She whispered, and smirked sadistically when he paused in his movements. At his attention, Helga brought down the head of the shovel with as much force as she could muster, driving it straight onto his head.

"I love you baby." She told him. That sinister dark spot in Helga urged her to laugh at the motionless form of her husband; and laugh she did. In some way she hoped that this _**was**_ the fountain, that way he would live so she could try that again. She groped around for his wrist, and felt no pulse. Apparently, she killed him. After pulling up the canteen and capping it, she stored it in one of the packs before flipping Arnold over, grabbing his ankles, and dragging him towards their rappelling equipment.

Her cackles echoed off the rock walls that held not only her secret, but also the secret of the fountain.

***

When Arnold awoke, he was in their bed, naked, but with the sheets wrapped around his waist naughtily. As soon as his eyes opened and his mind regained consciousness, he remembered what had happened down in the cave. Sitting p with a jolt, he looked out the window to see the cloudy New York sky. Where was Helga? How did they end up back home? And how did he survive her assault?

"Good morning love. How did you sleep?" _Well speak of the devil._ His wife's soft voice entered the room, shortly followed by her body which was dressed elegantly in a classy black cocktail dress. She was putting in the sterling silver and emerald earrings that he bought for her birthday last year. She looked so elegant and beautiful, that he was torn between two emotions, the first being to rip the dress off and show her just how much he loved her.

The other was to kill her.

And strangely enough, the second thought excited him just as much as the first. He felt a darkness capture his soul, and it didn't feel necessarily good or bad, just different. Helga caught the look in his eyes, and smirked deliciously as she perfected her appearance with the vanity mirror.

"Don't even think about it Football Head. We have a dinner date tonight with Tom, where we will discuss this new find of ours. I will not have you fucking this up; the night shall go exactly as planned – got it?"

He nodded, but didn't stop the mischief forming behind his eyes, not bothering to wonder what had happened to them in that cave.

*

And true to Helga's word, the evening went off without a hitch. The three of them laughed over red wine and lamb, talking about the newest section in Nat Geo on the Mosers' and their most recent find. They were at the restaurant for a few hours, before deciding to call it an evening. Besides, Arnold and Helga had to be in the lab the next day to help with the water analysis.

With all the alcohol they had consumed, it was no wonder that the two ended up tangled in the bed sheets, breathy moans and heavy pants echoing through the room. The air was thick with the smell of sex, and Arnold grunted at the need to be in control of this round. Pounding into his wife, her wails of submission spurring him on until at last neither could help but scream in completion.

And then sleep as though murdered in their bed.

But Arnold couldn't relax as easily as his wife, and as he lay in bed next to her exposed skin, that darkness crept into his mind once more. But now that he had satiated his lust for flesh, it only demanded on thing. Her blood.

In silent determination he slipped from the sheets and Helga's warm embrace, in order to sneak into the kitchen. After finding what he was looking for, Arnold re-emerged to gaze upon his wife, a sinister glint in his eyes and a large and imposing knife in his grasp. He would take care of this nagging darkness in his mind. For the both of them.

She hadn't even stirred when he struck the first blow into her chest, but as soon as the blade was embedded to the hilt her eyes jerked open and she gasped violently. Arnold didn't even pause as he kept piercing her flesh, quickly losing count of how many holes he made. Ten, twenty, fifty – it was so messy, he couldn't even perform a post-mortem tally.

Suddenly his body felt heavy, and he collapsed next to her, dead asleep.

***

Helga was pissed when she opened her eyes. Her extremely comfortable orange bamboo sheets were covered in blood, and her no-good husband was to blame. Speaking of Satan, the naked buffoon was still clutching the knife in his fist next to her, mumbling something about her in his sleep. Looking down, Helga felt her breasts and abdomen, but there were no holes, not even a scar.

As she recalled not only the feeling of being dominated last night, but also the look in Arnold's eye as he guffawed above her while stabbing her gleefully, she felt two very distinct feelings rise within her. One was how much revenge she wanted for his behavior, the other was to slap him awake and dominate _**him**_ . . .

"What's happened to us?" She thought suddenly, before realizing this all started when they drank from the fountain. As she pieced everything together, she started to feel bitterly cold. That spring, that water, it had definitely made them immortal, if their actions proved anything; but it also left something in them. Something dark.

It quickly dawned on her that she and her husband were now trapped in a game of sexual, and even blood lust; a tug-of-war for all eternity. And as she let the knowledge wash over her, and as her husband stirred in the mindset between asleep and awake, Helga laughed in delight at the plan her darkness had hatched.

She certainly hoped Arnold would enjoy his after-work cocktail today.

HA

Back in that cave in the middle of South America, the dark water glinted though there was no light; almost smiling in a sinister fashion.

Two more souls had been trapped and claimed by the Fountain of Youth.

HA


End file.
